2020 Bones Valentine's Challenge Story Collection
by GalaxieGurl
Summary: Herein are my contributions to this year's Valentine's Day story challenge. I'm writing a mix of chapters to fulfill several of the different prompts suggested on Bonesology, portraying several of the Bones' universe characters as each observes the holiday in their own unique way.
1. Chapter 1

Maggie and Hank

**A/N: The prompt for this chapter suggested picking a couple not usually written about, and describing how they celebrate Valentine's Day.**

Hank Booth sighed heavily as he descended the back porch steps, grabbed the dented garbage can, and carried it to the street for the next morning's trash collection. Leaving the curb, he walked back up the driveway toward his garage, watching his wife washing dinner dishes at the sink, quizzing their elder grandson on the states and capitals as he dutifully dried each wet steamy plate. Shaking his head, Hank sat down on the concrete bench in Margaret's tidy vegetable garden. Shrimp was an old soul in a kid's body, too cautious, too analytical to relax in childish abandon. But who could blame him, given Edwin's horrid behavior?

Bringing the two boys to live with them had changed his plans completely. For the past two years, he'd been secretly saving a small amount of money from his policeman's check to take Margaret back to the Poconos for Valentine's Day. Surprisingly, the small resort hotel where they'd spent their honeymoon was still in existence, operated by the original proprietor's grandson.

Their budget in 1941 had been pretty tight, and his time off after boot camp was short, but they'd enjoyed an idyllic time with the place nearly to themselves for three gloriously golden October mid-week days. Hiking, fishing a bit, making plans for their future…it had been a treasured memory for the pair these past 35 years. He had wanted to surprise his wife for their 30th anniversary, but practical expenses superseded romantic getaways. First the house needed a new roof, then the basement leaked; one thing after another precluded surprising his sweetheart each year.

He thought back to the Saturday morning he'd pulled up to his son's house, expecting to take Seeley and Jared to watch his police team hockey practice while their dad worked at his barbershop until three.

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As he'd exited his truck and walked up the driveway, an angry voice came through the open window. _What in tarnation was Edwin yelling about? _The front porch windows looked in on the small living room and Marianne's tidy kitchen. (Why did he still think of it as that when she'd been gone for 16 months?)

Climbing the three front steps, Hank stared; horrified at what he saw inside. Edwin was bent over his elder son, whacking at him with a rolled-up belt, its heavy buckle striking Seeley's jeans. The boy lay curled up on the floor, half under the kitchen table, an angry red welt visible across his thin upper arm. Hank crossed the porch in two great strides, flung open the screen door and yanked the front door knob; surprising little tearful Jared who was cringing amid the plaid sofa cushions.

Giving the child a gentle nod despite his shock and anger, Hank burst into the kitchen, grabbed Edwin's shoulder and pulled him off his son. He tore the belt from Edwin's fist, tossed it across the room, and roared "Edwin! STOP! How dare you beat a child like that? What were you thinking? No misbehavior deserves this treatment! I raised you better than this!"

Edwin Booth glared up at his irate father through bleary eyes, and slurred, "He din't mop the floor like I said. Hasn't raked up the leaves; left my lawn mower outside overnight! I paid good money for that thing; don't expect him to let it rust like that! Kid's got no regard for how hard I work to feed these brats! Dud'n respect me; settin' a bad example for his brudder!"

Hank smelled stale alcohol in his breath, a lot of it. _This early in the morning, the man is already drunk?_

"Get out of here, Ed! And don't come back! You don't deserve to be a father! A real man doesn't beat his own kids! Your mother would be horrified!"

Edwin stumbled past his father, grabbed his truck keys from a hook by the back door, jerked it open and left the house as it slammed behind him. He backed way too fast out of the driveway, threw the truck into reverse, and took off down the street, gears grinding, motor racing in complaint, tires squealing.

Hank bent down and took Seeley's hand, gently pulling the sobbing youngster to his feet. "It's okay, Shrimp. He's gone now. Your dad won't wallop you any more; not while I'm around." He maneuvered the boy into a kitchen chair, wiped his tear-streaked face with a cool dishtowel, and pulled Seeley into a tight embrace.

"We're gonna go see Granma now, okay? I'll come back for your clothes a little later."

"What about your hockey practice, Granpa?" Jared had crept into the kitchen, and was standing in the doorway clutching his bear.

"The team can do without me for today, Buddy. Granma was making a batch of oatmeal cookies when I left; they should be coming out of the oven right about now, warm and ready for you two to enjoy," Hank said softly.

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The money he'd saved toward Margaret's Pocono trip bought new school clothes and shoes for Jared and Seeley. The reservation he'd made for October 6th was quietly cancelled. He and his Maggie observed the following Valentine's Day in a way they hadn't done for many years. Red construction paper, white paper doilies, and silver stick-on letters had littered the kitchen table the previous night as the boys made Valentine's cards for their teachers and laboriously wrote their names on 29 small colorful cards for their classmates, then stuffed them into impossibly ill-sized envelopes. Once the holiday greetings were safely stored in each backpack for the next day, the unorthodox family watched a hockey game sharing popcorn and hot cocoa until bedtime rolled around.

The next evening, he and Margaret loaded the boys into the car and headed for Frannie's apartment to enjoy Great-Granma Booth's spaghetti sauce and pasta with their daughter and Ruth. Not a quiet private dinner in their favorite corner of Miller's Restaurant with a bottle of wine, but a Valentine's celebration nevertheless. Ruth's sense of humor kept them laughing all night long. His daughter's partner was a true gem of humanity.

Margaret's Pocono getaway would have to wait a few more years. Shrimp and Jared had adjusted pretty well since that late August Saturday morning when their lives were uprooted out of necessity. But the work of raising them was far from complete, and that had become Hank's and Margaret's priority.

Jared's memory at four and a half was spotty enough that he seemed to forget the traumatic household. Primarily because Seeley had shielded him from the worst of their father's wrath, Hank and Margaret realized ruefully. Their elder grandson was old beyond his years, had grown up too fast and left childhood behind, hiding his bruises and cuts beneath long-sleeved shirt sleeves. How long, Hank wasn't sure, but any amount of time enduring that treatment was far too much.

There hadn't been a word from Edwin in these last six months, but patrons of the barbershop kept Hank informed that his son was still working…and drinking. Somehow Edwin was managing to be a functioning alcoholic. He never missed work, always kept his patrons' appointments, and cut their hair in the same very satisfactory manner he always had. His rage from Vietnam was tamped down during workdays; apparently vented at night over a fifth of whiskey or six-pack of Dock Street Bohemian pilsner in some solitary apartment across town. Since Edwin had given his father a power of attorney before leaving for Vietnam and never revoked it, Margaret had sensibly suggested they rent out the little house on Hudson Street, saving the money for Seeley's and Jared's college education.

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Shaking off his reverie before Margaret came looking for him, Hank rose from his bench, squared his shoulders, and returned to the house to check Shrimp's math homework and quiz him on spelling words. His wife was waiting at the back door. She hugged him tightly, kissed him soundly, and whispered, "Don't worry, Hank, my dear. Our boys will be grown and gone before you know it, and then we can cuddle and schmaltz all we like. I know this isn't what you envisioned for our middle-age years, but it's imperative that we take care of Shrimp and Jared. I love you all the more for doing what you had to do. I know it killed you to throw Edwin out like that. But it had to be done! Not sure where we failed that boy, but we surely can't fail these two little innocent souls, now can we?"

Hank returned her earnest kiss, hugged his wife back, and agreed. "No, Mags, we can't. I just hope someday Edwin can see his mistakes and make peace with his sons. Assuming they'll ever forgive him; and I'm not sure they could."

Margaret squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. "That's a conundrum for another day, Hank. Right now your grandsons' schoolwork takes precedence. Remember what St Mark wrote, "So don't worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring its own worries. Today's trouble is enough for today."

Hank smiled at her in the twilight evening. "You've always been wiser than me, Maggie-girl. What would I do without you, my love?"

Margaret grinned back at him. "Hopefully, we'll never have to find out, Hank dear."

**A/N: Margaret is quoting Matthew 6:34.**


	2. Chapter 2

Oddball Surprises for Bones

**A/N: This is way too short, but planning a wedding takes a lot of time. I'm adapting one of the prompts for anti-Valentine's Day to write a story based on another February holiday. I've covered a whole bunch of them in this little piece. Hope you enjoy.**

Brushing his teeth one snowy morning in late January, Booth mulled the coming Valentine's holiday which his partner derided as a merely commercial construct which prompted inordinate ill-considered spending by illogical consumers trying to demonstrate their affection for one another. He had loved her Tommy gun idea for him the previous year; it was so original and uniquely characteristic of his Bones. Spitting and rinsing several times, he grinned at himself in the bathroom mirror at the idea that just struck him.

He'd celebrate the _other_ holidays of February with her! On Lincoln's birthday, they'd have a picnic lunch on the Memorial steps where they'd sat together so often. None of this Presidents' Day for Seeley Booth. Both Abraham and George deserved individual recognition. On Washington's birthday, he'd bring her fresh cherries for a tasty, vegan-approved, non-pie treat. If there was anything Temperance Brennan disdained, it was fruit pie or cooked fruit in any form for that matter! Procuring fresh organic cherries in the midst of a D.C. winter wouldn't be easy or cheap, but his partner was worth every cent he might spend.

Booth resolved to check the internet for a list of February holidays once he got his first cup of coffee at the office. There had to be some 'off the wall' ideas he could utilize to give his partner a pleasant surprise. He knew there were several menu-related national days of observance for various foods, and with all the late-evening take-out meals he shared with Brennan as they finished case reports, he'd have plenty of opportunities to surprise her in the month ahead.

In keeping with his foodie ideas, he'd bring her butter pecan ice cream for breakfast on that odd holiday, and carrot cake for its national day of recognition, knowing it was one of her favorite varieties of cake. That one he could bake himself, using Grams' generations-old family recipe she'd taught him the summer he turned ten. He could combine National Chocolate Fondue Day, Nutella Day, Chocolate Soufflé Day and Dark Chocolate Day with her favorite desserts at Martino's, hoping the two of them didn't need to observe National Toothache Day afterwards.

And the fettucine alfredo house specialty would be a perfect entree for that night's celebratory dinner, since it was one of Brennan's preferred meals; a weakness and near-addiction of hers his closest "guy-hug" friend stoutly refused to acknowledge. _Guy hug indeed, what a wuss he'd been that day, _he thought ruefully. Who would 'a thought there was a Fettucine Alfredo Day? Probably "thunk up" by some struggling Italian restauranteur. That had been one of Aunt Frannie's classic expressions. God, how he missed his fun-loving, nephew-indulging aunt! When he needed inspiration for what to do with Parker on a Saturday, he'd just think back to the wonderful outings his aunt and her partner Ruth would so often plan to entertain Jared and him.

It would be great romantic fun to celebrate National Shower with a Friend Day together, but observing that very private holiday together would have to wait a few more years in the future. At least he hoped they'd get there someday…before too long…_come on, Lord, give a guy a break, please,_ _and give Bones a little nudge, if I'm right, _he whispered silently, gazing at the ceiling.

He chuckled to himself at the one holiday his partner would have trouble observing but never admit it…National Get Up Day! Temperance Brennan woke up insanely early for work every weekday, and many weekends, but Booth knew how much she actually loved sleeping in when she got the rare chance to do so. Maybe he could bend the rules a little bit, and buy her a card for National Women Physicians Day. Bones might not be an M.D. or D.O, but she had three doctorates, more than most medical folks; and that ought to count for something! It would also knock out another holiday, National Send a Card to a Friend Day. Surely Hallmark or American Greetings had a hand in popularizing that one, he smirked to himself. Pops had frequently made his own cards for Grams, sputtering disdainfully at the claptrap he'd found in stores. His beloved grandfather was a decent amateur poet, and Margaret Booth had kept every card her husband ever sent. Her favorites resided in a pasta-festooned cigar box Edwin had made in third grade for Christmas.

The gold spray paint from that era must have been really potent to have lasted so long! For decades, the agent mused, creative grammar school teachers had been helping their students create parent gifts on a shoestring budget, often out of their own pockets. Booth and Rebecca always supported Parker's teachers with practical gift cards, but he resolved to give Mrs. Edmunds an additional check for art supplies at the next teacher conference.

Thinking of Parker made Booth realize he could combine two holiday observances to delight his two favorite people; Give Kids A Smile Day, and Frozen Yogurt Day. Rebecca approved of that treat for their son, and smiling around Bones and Parker was as easy as pie, the proud father thought.

Pie…his stomach rumbled. Engrossed in his holiday idea, Booth had skipped breakfast and it was still four hours til he could meet Brennan at the diner for lunch. Better go see if anyone had left donuts in the break room, and then get to work. It was going to be a fun month slipping treats into the lab when his partner least expected them. Maybe he ought to recruit Hodgins for his plans. The two of them could help each other outfox their respective 'best friends' with surprises. Booth pulled his phone from his lapel pocket and dialed.

"Hey, Hodgins, it's Booth. I've got an idea I'd like to run by you…"


	3. Chapter 3

Christine and Corona

**A/N: This definitely isn't a Valentine's story, but we're still within the challenge time frame and this story idea seems apropos to the current social distancing health crisis we're facing. So I've posted it as part of my contributions to the challenge which ends March 31st. Hopefully by then, things will have improved.**

Christine came out of her Cadette Girl Scout meeting, jerked the car door open, threw her backpack into the back seat, slumped into the seat beside her mother, and fastened her safety belt with a vengeance.

Brennan watched this performance silently, started her Prius, and pulled away from the curb. She glanced in the side and rear view mirrors as she left Alfred Murrah Middle School parking lot, entered traffic, then looked over at her daughter.

Announcing the understatement of the year, she finally spoke. "You seem upset about something, Christine. Was it a hard school day or did something displease you during your Scout meeting?"

The girl hung her head and burst into tears, her blond curls shaking as she sobbed.

Her mother said no more, but drove a few more blocks toward their neighborhood. Pulling into their driveway, she noticed that Booth was not yet home from Hank's hockey practice, which gave her a few minutes to talk to Christine. She pulled her messenger bag from the back seat, placed the strap over her shoulder, and walked around the car to open the passenger door.

"Come inside and help me start dinner, Chrissy," she said quietly. Once the pair were inside, Brennan poured a glass of apple juice and placed it on the counter beside her cookie jar of peanut butter cookies.

"Sit down for a moment and tell me what's wrong, Honey."

"Mom, our spring break badge seminar at Dumbarton House is cancelled. Our troop won't have a chance to meet the girls from North Carolina we've been planning with since September! Our Federal Period education project will be ru—rui—ruined," Christine sobbed.

"We've worked so hard developing the workshop activities for Brownies and Juniors, but now we'll have to wait until fall break to present it instead of this summer! Stupid Corona virus is ruining everything! Plus, there's a chance we'll be tele-schooled from now until the end of the semester! Online classes are okay once in a while, but that will be so boring for the next two months! Kennedy and I will never get to see each other!"

"Take a breath, and calm down. Drink some of your juice. Who is making these dire decisions?" Brennan asked.

"Mrs. Haskell said the Girl Scout office heard from New York City that all spring break camps and workshops are being cancelled due to the corona outbreak! They won't let any group of girls larger than 8 meet at any one time! We've been Skyping and Face-timing with Troop 87 every week since January, and now our project will be a disaster! We can't practice our skits if we can't get together with the Durham troop!"

"Actually, Honey, there might be a way around the COVID-19 restrictions. You could still hold your planning sessions and rehearsals. It will just take a little ingenuity, technology, and flexibility on you girls' part. Dr. Regina Richter, head of the Evolutionary Anthropology program at Duke University was a graduate student with me at Northwestern. Her associate Dr. Tracy Ponder chairs the Cultural Anthropology program in the same building on campus. We've been on numerous digs together."

"Both professors have daughters in the Durham troop you've been interacting with. I think between your Aunt Angela's expertise and the distance learning resources at the Jeffersonian, we can arrange for virtual meetings between you and Troop 87. Duke also has excellent remote educational classroom facilities."

"You girls can have video sleep-overs, real-time rehearsals, and plenty of chances to hone your Federal Period classes for the younger scouts. You'll just have to adjust to interacting with the Durham girls remotely like you did with your daddy when he went to London last year to meet Inspector Pritchard."

Christine's tears had dried as she listened in amazement to her mother's ideas. "You mean you've known Kelly's and Hannah's mothers since you were in college? How come you never told me?"

Brennan smiled. "First, you never asked, and second, we moms thought it would come as a nice surprise to you and their girls!"

"Mom, you're the best! You can always figure out a way to make things happen for me and my friends!"

"I will place a call to Dr. Richter in the morning and see what we can arrange. We still have a week and a half until your spring break begins. Now, please, tear up the lettuce for our salad, and set the table before your father and Hank come barreling through the door, hungry as bears after hockey. "

Christine threw her arms around Brennan and whirled her mother around the kitchen.

"Good heavens! You're nearly as tall as I am, and much stronger than the last time you did that when I held your Brownie Scout Halloween party in Dad's man cave! You nearly knocked me off my feet, kiddo!"


End file.
